


Don't Leave Me at the Border

by XxmerthurcatxX



Series: Gallavich Fix It Fics [11]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Aka the reunion in season seven and what follows, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Ian Gallagher, Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Dirty Talk, Episode 7x10 and 7x11, Fix It, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Language, M/M, Reunion Sex, Top Ian Gallagher, Top Mickey Milkovich, talk of bipolar disorder, talking about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-27 05:04:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17760299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxmerthurcatxX/pseuds/XxmerthurcatxX
Summary: Ian and Mickey's relationship was built on what ifs. What if Ian apologized for breaking up with Mickey? What if their reunion lead to more than either expected? What if Ian went with Mickey to Mexico. All the way. Not just the border.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> As always, our boys confront their feelings. Plenty of fluff, angst, and smut ahead. I take prompts so please feel free to drop them in the comments section.
> 
> Also, I know canonically Mickey and Ian don't use condoms, but I'm a big believer in safe sex so, they'll pretty much always use condoms in my fics :D

“Motherfucker!” Ian cursed as he was roughly shoved from the van and onto the ground. He ripped the hood off of his head, whirling around to watch the black van disappearing. “Fuck you!” he shouted, glancing down to see his pants covered in dust from the baseball diamond. “I’ll fucking--fucking kill you,” he called, too out of breath to yell anymore. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, turning to see a familiar figure standing a few feet away. Even obscured by the shadow of the bleachers, Ian knew who it was. He’d know that body anywhere. Mickey fucking Milkovich. 

Mickey gave the redhead an up down, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips as he nodded his head for Ian to follow him further under the bleachers so they would be hidden from any prying eyes that might be walking by. Ian followed obediently, though still angry about being shoved into a van. When Mickey came to a stop in front of him Ian couldn’t resist giving him a little shove, eager to bring some familiarity to an otherwise alien set of circumstances. 

“The fuck is with the blindfold?” Ian asked, not surprised when Mickey immediately returned the shove. 

“The fuck’s with you bein late, bitch?” Mickey countered, the two grappling for a moment, grabbing hold of each other’s jackets. They paused with their faces inches apart as the tension between them quickly melted from pure anger to something old and intimate. It made Ian feel fifteen again. Put him right back in Mickey’s bedroom when they’d been ready to pound the shit out of each other until Mickey’s boner was inches from Ian’s face and suddenly they were doing a whole different kind of pounding. Fuck, he hadn’t felt like this since...since Mickey left. 

Ian watched Mickey’s eyes flicker down to his lips, mimicking the gesture with one of his own. The kiss or kill zone. That’s what they were standing in. Mickey abruptly shoved Ian back, putting a little space between them and chuckling at the look on the redhead’s face. 

“You like the high school bleachers?” he asked, retrieving his beer and plunking down on one of the blocks of cement that held the bleachers in place. “Our spot, man,” he said, giving Ian another up down. Slower this time. Fuck the kid looked good. He always looked good. “You went all official on me,” Mickey mused, taking a slow sip of his beer. 

Ian nodded, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He was antsy. Part of him wanted to grab Mickey, bend him over the bleachers, and fuck him six ways until Sunday. The other part of him wanted to run for the hills. He wasn’t sure yet which part was gonna win out. 

“EMT. I came from work,” Ian told him, finally noticing there was dirt all over his jacket as well as his pants and trying to brush some of it off. 

“Mmm,” Mickey hummed. Ian wasn’t sure if it was a mocking noise or a “you look hot in uniform” noise. 

“You look good,” Ian said honestly. He wasn’t gonna lie. The longer hair was a good look for his ex, as was the stubble along his jaw. Mickey could have shown up covered in mud and smelling like a sewer and Ian probably still would have thought he was beautiful. It was just the effect Mickey had on him. He couldn’t help it. 

“Not much else to do in there but work out,” Mickey grunted. Ian’s mouth flickered into a small smile. That’s the same thing he’d said when he got out of juvie...the first time. He’d been quick to show Ian up with the ease at which he could do chin ups. 

“So what now?” Ian asked. 

Mickey shrugged. 

“Layin low with my cellmate Damon,” Mickey said, pointing to a man leaning against the fence, far enough away that he couldn’t hear what was being said. “Mexican banger hitman motherfucker,” Mickey told him, laughing as he flipped his cellmate off. He sobered quickly. “Cops come talkin to you?” he asked, holding Ian’s eye as he took a sip of his beer. 

“Think I’d snitch?” Ian asked, arching a brow. He was many things, but a snitcher sure as hell wasn’t one of them. Mickey nodded, grateful that Ian still had his back, even with the years that had passed with them apart. 

“Look, I’m um...I’m getting some cash, some new ID’s and headin to Mexico,” he said, suddenly feeling nervous about what he was about to do. 

“Wow,” Ian mumbled, trying and failing to mask his disappointment. Of course Mickey couldn’t stay here, he’d get thrown back in jail in two seconds. 

“You should come.”

Ian’s head shot up, eyes locking with Mickey’s. Well, that’s not what he was expecting to come out of the other man’s mouth. 

“Come with you to Mexico?” he asked, needing the clarification. Mickey got to his feet, nodding almost shyly. Ian couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him or the scoff that followed. He couldn’t just drop everything and leave for Mexico. Could he? Mickey stepped closer. 

“I thought a lot. About you inside,” he said seriously, running his hand up Ian’s chest to curl his fingers around the collar of his jacket. “You’re under my skin, man. The fuck can I do? Hmm?” he asked quietly, eyes searching Ian’s face, mapping it out like it was the last time he was gonna see him. Hell, for all he knew it might be. “Can I do?” he asked again. 

Ian could feel the heat radiating off Mickey’s body and whether it was conscious or not he arched closer to him. They were so close, their noses almost brushing, but then Damon was whistling and waving for Mickey to tell him it was time to move on. Mickey rolled his eyes at his cellmate then turned back to Ian, smiling and touching his cheek. 

“Think about it,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate as he turned to walk away before he lost all sense of self control and kissed Ian’s brains out right then and there. 

“How am I gonna find you?” Ian called after him. 

“Look up,” Mickey said, not looking back before jumping into the back of the van and speeding off to who knows where. 

Ian frowned. Look up? He did as he was told, only a little surprised to find that Mickey had planted another disposable cell phone. Sighing he tucked it into his pocket, wondering if any of this had been real. 

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Ian wasn’t even sure Mickey would call. The police were looking for him and Damon all over the place. He could be back in jail right now and Ian would have no idea. Granted he knew who he was dealing with and Mickey Milkovich did not take it lying down. Well...he sort of did. But not when it came to the cops or the criminal justice system. 

He would take it to his grave that he stressed about what to wear. Mickey had seen him at his absolute worst so it’s not like it really mattered. Not to mention he wasn’t planning on doing anything with Mickey except talk. That’s what he was telling himself anyway. He ended up in his nicest jeans, the dark blue ones that made his ass look like you could bounce a quarter off of it and a cream colored henley. On his feet were a pair of brown boots that he’d found on sale at some snooty store Trevor had dragged him to. 

His phone buzzed a little after midnight, Mickey swiftly telling Ian to meet him at the docks in twenty minutes before hanging up just as abruptly. It hadn’t been all that cold recently but Ian snagged his jacket anyway, mostly cause his smokes were in the pocket. 

The walk to the docks was a short one, but it was far enough out of the way of the neighborhood that the cops shouldn’t be circling by. Smart, Ian thought. Mickey had always been smarter than most people gave him credit for. As soon as Ian made it to the docs he lit a cigarette, trying ease his nerves. He wasn’t gonna start this up again. He wasn’t gonna let Mickey under his skin. Fuck it, Mickey was always under his skin. Getting locked up in jail hadn’t changed that. Ian looked up when he heard footsteps, relieved to see Mickey coming across the dock. He quickly toed out his cigarette as Mickey strode toward him. 

“I knew you’d come,” Mickey said, grinning as he came closer. Ian swallowed hard. Oh fuck. “Knew you’d come. Come here.”

Mickey didn’t wait for Ian to respond, eagerly connecting their lips and kissing him with all he had. Fuck, he’d missed this. Missed being able to press himself against Ian like this and kiss him until they were both struggling for breath. He hummed into the kiss, one hand on the back of the redhead’s neck, keeping him right where he wanted him. 

Ian kissed back just as fervently. The second he saw Mickey he knew he’d be powerless to stop himself from getting his mouth all over the other man. They’d been apart for a few years now but Mickey still kissed the same way. Like he was trying to devour Ian with every brush of his lips. When Ian felt Mickey getting hard against his thigh his mind caught up with his actions and he pushed him back, taking deep breaths as he tried to ground himself. The way Mickey kissed left him dizzy, but he was determined to be strong this time. 

“The fuck?” Mickey asked, still looking at the redhead with blatant lust in his eyes. 

“What, do you think my life hasn’t moved on since you were locked up, Mickey?” Ian asked, suddenly angry at the man in front of him. What, he just assumed Ian had been sitting around pining? Admittedly, there was a fair amount of pining, but Ian had been good dammit. He had a job. He had a boyfriend. 

“No, I just thought that you’d be down for me since the whole reason I did time was for goin after the bitch who tried to ruin you,” Mickey reasoned. Ian was making this difficult, like he always did. Mickey had spent the last few years in fucking jail, he figured he deserved at least a hell of a kiss hello. Even if it turned out to double as a kiss goodbye. 

Ian shook his head, staring Mickey straight in the eye. 

“I’m not pissing away my life-

“Stop,” Mickey cut him off, leaning in to barely brush his lips against Ian’s, teasing his tongue along the seam of the redhead’s lips and smiling when he felt Ian’s own tongue curl against his. He cupped Ian’s cheek, trying to deepen the kiss, but then the taller boy was breaking away again, muttering a harsh “fuck.” Mickey sighed, scratching at his eyebrow and rolling his eyes. Jesus, good to know this kid was still a drama queen. 

“I have my shit together, Mick! And I-I have a-a fucking boyfriend,” Ian told him. 

Mickey’s eyebrows shot up, a teasing grin forming on his face. He ignored the pain in his chest at the thought of Ian fucking someone else. Not like Mickey had been celibate in jail but it was mostly for show, make sure his prison mates thought he was a top so no one tried to make him their bitch. But casual fucking and having a boyfriend were two very different things.

“Boyfriend?” he asked. 

Ian nodded, looking a little bit guilty.  _ Good _ , Mickey thought. 

“Okay...Whatcha doin here then?” Mickey asked, shrugging his shoulders and giving Ian a knowing look. 

Ian gave the man in front of him a slow up down. The man he’d tried to hard to move on from who was here now. Who still wanted him even after Ian had broken things off between the two of them. Fuck it. He took three steps forward, yanking Mickey’s jacket halfway down his shoulders to trap his arms in place and kissing him hard, slow, and deep. Mickey shook his jacket the rest of the way off, hands sliding between them to fumble with his own belt. Ian did the same, suddenly harder than he could ever remember being. Mickey did things to him. Dirty things. Things that made his mind swirl and god help him he liked it.  _ Loved _ it. 

“Tell me goodbye,” Mickey warned, giving Ian the chance to back down. Ian shoved him back against the old car behind him, glare in place. “What?” Mickey teased. 

Ian said nothing, pulling off his shirt and letting it fall to the ground.There was no going back. He wanted Mickey and he wanted him now. The man stared appreciatively at the sight of Ian’s bare chest, taking note of the light dusting of chest hair that hadn’t been there before. He smirked. Kid even had a happy trail now. Looks like puberty finally caught up with him. Impatient to get fucked, Mickey turned around a slid his pants down around his ankles. 

Ian kissed at Mickey’s neck, relishing the way it made the other man arch back against him. 

“You want it?” Ian whispered, mouth pressed to his ear. 

“Oh, fuck,” Mickey answered, feeling Ian’s dick pressing against his ass. “Why don’t you find out, Firecrotch?”

Ian chuckled into Mickey neck, sliding his fingers down to prep him, eyes widening when his fingers came back wet with lube. 

“Did you prep yourself for me?” Ian asked, voice close to a growl as he gripping Mickey’s hip hard enough to bruise. 

“Didn’t wanna waste any time,” Mickey explained. 

Ian hummed, trailing kisses across the back of Mickey’s neck and taking a deep breath, inhaling the other man’s scent. He smelled like sweat and smoke and something that was distinctly Mickey. Fuck, he smelled good. He always did. 

“You were that sure you were gonna get lucky huh?” Ian asked, unable to resist teasing him a little. 

“Fuck you. I was hoping, okay? Been thinking about this for so long. Want you in me.

_ Please _ ?” Mickey begged, pushing his hips back against Ian to prove his point. 

Ian couldn’t deny Mickey. Not when he was like this. He finished undoing his belt, snagging a condom from his back pocket (always be prepared) before he pushed his pants the rest of the way down. He rolled the condom on quickly, then stroked himself once, twice, before his was pushing into Mickey, hissing at how tight he still was. Even after all the prep. Mickey cursed, head falling back to rest on the redhead’s shoulder. Ian grabbed a hold of Mickey’s hands, lacing their fingers together and pinning them to the hood of the car as he started fucking into him. 

Mickey squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out everything that wasn’t Ian; the sirens blaring too close for comfort, the chill of the breeze that had come out of nowhere, the hood of the old car scratching the palms of his hands. He pushed it all away, focusing on the way Ian’s breath kept hitching in his ear, soft groans sliding past his lips with every thrust of his hips. 

“God, you feel-” Mickey broke off with a long moan as Ian brushed against his prostate, pressing his chest flush against Mickey’s back to go deeper. 

“You too. Fuck, I missed this. I missed you,” Ian murmured, biting hard at the skin that was showing where Mickey’s shirt was sliding down his shoulder. He had the sudden blinding urge to pepper Mickey with love bites, mark him up good so that everyone knew he was taken. That he was Ian’s. He knew it was selfish. He was the one who ended things in the first place. What was he thinking? Well, he wasn’t thinking at the time obviously. How could he think he would ever find someone who even came close to Mickey? 

“I-I’m too far gone,” Mickey warned, shoving his hips back to meet each of Ian’s thrusts. “I’m not gonna last. T-touch me,” he whimpered. 

Ian smirked. 

“Touch you where?” he teased. 

If Mickey hadn’t been so close he would have turned around and punched Ian in his stupid smug face. As it was, he was too far gone to care. 

“My cock. P-put your h-hand on my cock,” he stuttered. “Fucking, jerk me off already, Gallagher.” 

Ian thought about teasing him some more, but he was close too. He’d known this wasn’t going to last long. They were both too pent up from years of wanting. He released one of Mickey’s hands, wrapping his long fingers around Mickey’s dick, swiping his thumb across the head and gathering a smear of precum to make it a little slicker. Mickey whined, torn between fucking back against Ian and fucking forward into his fist. His free hand snaked back to grip Ian’s ass hard, trying to get him closer,  _ deeper _ . 

"Gonna-g-gonna, oh fuck!” Mickey cried, spilling over Ian’s fist his head thrown back against the redhead’s shoulder as he shook through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Ian whimpered in his ear, eager for his own release as he pumped his hips faster. “Come on. Come for me. Come in me. Wanna feel it. W-wanna feel you for  _ days _ . Ian,” Mickey slurred, drunk on his pleasure. 

Ian cursed, voice low in Mickey’s ear, coming with a choked off moan so quiet Mickey was sure he wouldn’t have heard it if they weren’t pressed so close together. He’d always loved that Ian was quiet when he came. It’s like it was just for Mickey to hear and no one else. God, when did he get so far gone on this kid?

Ian was content to stay up against Mickey like this while they caught their breath, but the sweat cooling on his skin made it feel so much colder. Reluctantly he pulled out of Mickey, pulling the condom off and tossing it into a nearby trash can before yanking his pants back up and shaking the dirt off his shirt before pulling it over his head. He watched Mickey do up his own pants, shivering as he did so. Whether it was from the breeze or the aftershocks of his orgasm, Ian wasn’t sure. 

The air between them was different now. The sexual tension had cooled, leaving uncertainty in its wake. What did this mean for them? Mickey ran his thumb along his bottom lip, a nervous habit that Ian recognized instantly. The redhead curled his fingers under Mickey’s chin, waiting for him to make eye contact before he swooped down, kissing him soft and slow. Mickey clutched at Ian’s shirt, dragging him closer, turning the kiss into something filthy. Something that felt like both a promise and a question.  _ I’m yours _ .  _ Are you mine _ ? Ian pulled away from the kiss, staying close enough that they were still breathing the same air. Mickey smiled sleepily at him. 

“Fuck, I’m exhausted. Being on the run really takes it out of you,” he grumbled. 

Ian hummed in agreement. 

“I think getting railed against a car might have something to do with it.”

Mickey laughed, giving him a light, almost playful, shove. 

“C’mon. Dropped Damon for the night at some shitty motel so I got the van. Unless you’ve got some place to be,” Mickey challenged, raising his eyebrows at the redhead. 

Ian shook his head, taking Mickey’s hand in his and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” he said honestly. 

Mickey smiled, a small shy smile and gave Ian’s hand a squeeze as he dragged him off toward the black van parked down the street. Ian’s heart swelled. Back when they started this thing Mickey would have ripped his hand way so fast it left Ian’s head spinning. But now...something was different. Mickey was softer, gentle with Ian like he thought he would run for the hills if he made so much as one wrong move. Ian felt nauseous as a pit settled in his stomach, knowing he had betrayed Mickey’s trust when he’d ended things between them. He hated himself for it. Part of him wished Mickey hated him for it too. 

Later that night, laying in the van with their heads together, Ian couldn’t keep it in anymore. 

“I’m sorry!” he blurted. 

Mickey frowned, turning to face him. 

“For what?” he asked. 

Ian opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He couldn’t put it into words. Nothing he thought of seemed like a good enough excuse for why he’d broken up with Mickey. He didn’t want Mickey to see him like that? He didn’t want Mickey to feel obligated to take care of him? He was scared. That’s what it all boiled down to. He was fucking terrified that Mickey would leave him when things god bad, so like a coward he ended it first. 

“Ay, what’s with the waterworks?” Mickey asked, reaching out to touch Ian’s cheek. 

The younger boy hadn’t even realized he was crying until Mickey pointed it out and then he couldn’t stop, locking his arms around Mickey and crushing him against his chest. He was almost hysterical, murmuring I’m sorry over and over and over again as Mickey hushed him and squeezed the back of his neck to ground him. 

“It’s okay,” Mickey whispered, holding Ian back just as fiercely. “I forgive you. Whatever it is, I forgive you.”

Ian cried even harder. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, just a few quick notes before you read this!
> 
> 1\. I'm from New England and I was hankering for a fluffernutter when I was writing this which is why the glory that is a fluffernutter sandwich made an appearance. 
> 
> 2\. I don't hate Trevor. I don't like Trevor, but I don't hate him. That being said, I think anyone who was cheated on and then left behind deserves some sort of explanation. There is a brief discussion about Trevor being trans and we all know Mickey would have been a total dick about it, but I decided to keep it light so I censored Mickey just a liiiiittle. 
> 
> 3\. As always, the best sex is safe sex so even though canonically they don't use condoms, they do in this!

Ian woke up slowly, like he always did. Taking a moment to adjust to being awake before he opened his eyes, slightly crusty from the tears he had cried last night. His face was pressed against Mickey’s back, his arm thrown over the still sleeping man. He focused on the rise and fall of Mickey’s chest under his hand, smiling softly as he pressed his nose between Mickey’s shoulder blades and inhaled deeply. God, he missed that smell. His mind drifted back to the time Carl had asked him if he loved Mickey and his answer had been “I like how he smells.” His brother had looked confused, but shrugged it off, eagerly telling Ian about his own girlfriend. 

The reality of what he had done was starting to set in and Ian forced himself to sit up, reaching blindly for his phone to check the time. Eight thirty in the morning. He was gonna be late for work. There was one missed call from Trevor, but no voicemail, so he figured the other boy was kept busy for most of the night finding homes for the kids in desperate need of them. He hit the call button, tucking his phone under his ear as he yanked his boots on. It went straight to voicemail. 

“Hey...sorry I missed you,” Ian said, not sure if he meant it. He glanced over his shoulder at Mickey and sighed. “Look, uh, we need to talk. Meet at your place on my break? One o’clock? Text yes or no when you get this. I’ll see you soon. Bye.” 

Mickey was still sound asleep behind him when Ian got off the phone. He placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. 

“Mick? Hey, Mick?”

The thug woke with a start, flinging his arm out to defend himself just like he always did when someone woke him up. It made Ian grimace. Years of Terry’s abuse, waking Mickey up with harsh words and sucker punches to the face, had done this to him. Last Ian heard, Terry was back in prison, and for all he cared he could fucking rot in there. Mickey’s face softened when he saw it was Ian, cursing and pressing the heel of his hand to his eye. He’d never been much of a morning person, even if Ian was the first thing he saw when he woke up. 

“I gotta go,” Ian said, “back to work and shit.”

Mickey sighed, fumbling for a smoke out of his discarded jacket. 

“Gonna see you again?” he asked sleepily, tucking a cigarette between his lips. 

Ian paused with his hand on the door handle. He knew Mickey was trying not to sound too hopeful, but Ian knew better. He leaned down, plucking the cigarette from Mickey’s mouth and kissing him soundly. Mickey kissed back instantly, one hand curling around the back of Ian’s neck while the other landed softly at his elbow. The redhead broke the kiss before it could get too heated, smiling as he set the cigarette back in Mickey’s mouth and opened the door. He jumped out of the van, glancing both ways to make sure there were no cops around that he needed to warn Mickey about, and hastily heading to the station. There was an extra uniform in his locker so he didn’t bother stopping at home. 

It was a slow day and Ian had never been more thankful. He didn’t trust his mind to be able to stay on task right now. That being said, he was dreading his break at one o’clock. Trevor had texted back “yes” with a smiley face and a heart. Clearly he didn’t know what “we need to talk” was code for. 

Ian was trying to take it one step at a time. Mickey was leaving for Mexico. He wanted Ian to go with him. Despite the life that Ian had built for himself. Despite all the shit he’d overcome. He was willing to say fuck it all, if it meant being with Mickey. He’d made the mistake of letting Mickey go once and he wasn’t going to do it again. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile as he imagined the look on Mickey’s face if Ian told him that. He’d call him a sap and try to brush of the serious, overwhelmingly intimate nature of a promise like that. Of course Mickey had not idea that Ian had learned the art of romance over the last few years.  _ Prepare to be swept off your fucking feet, Milkovich _ .

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Sue asked, plunking down at the table across from Ian and opening her lunchbox. “You get laid last night or something?”

Ian laughed. Oh, she had no idea. 

“Something like that,” he said.

Sue huffed, taking a large bit of her fluffernutter, acutely aware of the glob of marshmallow fluff that was sticking to her chin. Ian stared at her. 

“What the hell are you eating?” he asked. 

Sue huffed a laugh, pulling the other half of her sandwich out of the tupperware container and handing it to Ian. 

“It’s called a fluffernutter. They’re a New England classic and I grew up in Maine. It’s just peanut butter and marshmallow fluff. Go ahead, try it.”

Ian took the half of the sandwich she offered, looking at it skeptically before taking a bite right out of the middle. He chewed slowly, eyes widening in surprise. Sue smirked smugly at him. 

“It’s good isn’t it?” she teased. “My daughters are obsessed with them right now. Thank god they sell Fluff at Walmart now. Back when I first moved here they hadn’t started selling Fluff many places outside of New England yet so I had to stock up whenever I went home,” she said with a laugh. “You can finish that half. I don’t need the calories.”

Ian jumped when his alarm went off on his phone, signaling he was off the clock for the next hour. Tucking the sandwich between his teeth, he threw on his jacket and quickly gathered his shit from his locker. 

“Thanks for the sandwich!” he called, mouth full as he gave Sue a wave and ran out the door. He didn't tell her he wasn't planning on coming back when his break was over. Hopefully she'd forgive him for leaving her alone with the trainees. The seriousness of what he was about to do was somewhat lessened by his newfound knowledge of the fluffernutter. He had a feeling however, when he reached the door of Trevor’s apartment, that the pit in his stomach had nothing to do with the sandwich. 

“Hey, babe,” Trevor answered the door, looking exhausted, but smiling nonetheless. He leaned in, giving Ian a quick peck on the lips before stepping aside to let him enter the apartment. “You sounded pretty tense in your message. Anything I can do?” Trevor asked, teasingly sliding a hand down to give Ian’s ass a squeeze.

Ian shook his head, putting a little distance between the two of them. 

“Look, Trevor. When I said we needed to talk I really meant talk. I didn’t come here for a quickie before I have to go back to work.”

Trevor frowned. 

“Okaaay. So, what’s up?” he asked, sitting on the arm of one of the chairs in the living room. 

Ian ran a hand through the back of his hair nervously. He wasn’t good at this whole, breaking up with someone thing. The only person he’d ever really broken up with was Mickey and he was half out of his mind at the time so he only remembered bits and pieces. 

“I...I don’t think it’s gonna work out. Between us, I mean,” he said quickly. 

Trevor’s frown deepened, his fingers drumming nervously on his knee. 

“I don’t understand. Thought things were going pretty well, Red,” he said, smiling sadly when he said the nickname. 

“They were,” Ian assured him, not wanting to be a jerk. Trevor was great, but he wasn’t Mickey. No one was Mickey. “I just-

“It’s your ex isn’t it. What’s his name, uh, Mickey?” Trevor asked, knowing look on his face. 

Ian swallowed. He should lie. Trevor could go to the police and tip them off about Mickey being in contact with Ian. 

“Yes, but not for the reason you think,” Ian told him. 

“So, you’re not gonna get back with him now that he’s out of prison?” Trevor asked. 

Ian scoffed, shaking his head. 

“Trev, I don’t even know where he is. That’s not what this is about.”

“What is it about then?” Trevor asked, getting to his feet and advancing on the redhead. 

“I’m still in love with him. He’s on the run. He hasn’t been in contact. But that doesn’t matter because I love him and I can’t be with you when I’m thinking about someone else,” Ian said seriously. 

Trevor studied his face, searching for any signs that it was a lie. Ian kept his cool. It wasn’t hard to appear apologetic since he honestly was. Sure, he and Trevor had their differences and sometimes they fought, but he didn’t deserve to get cheated on. And Ian wasn’t gonna leave without saying anything. Not when he had no plans of coming back. Trevor ran a hand down Ian’s chest, fiddling with his collar just as Mickey had done under the bleachers. It didn’t make Ian shiver the same way. 

“You sure about this, Red? Sure you know what you’re giving up?” He asked, signature grin in place. 

Ian huffed a laugh, shaking his head and carefully removing Trevor’s hands from his jacket. 

“I’m sure. I’m sorry,” Ian said, sincerely. "I'll see you around," he added for good measure, trying to keep up the ruse that everything was normal and he wasn't about to run away to Mexico and drive off into the sunset with Mickey.

Trevor’s grin slipped from his face when he realized Ian was for real about breaking up with him. He scoffed, shaking his head. 

“Your loss, man,” he said, giving Ian a disdainful up down. “Sure as hell isn’t mine.”

Ian had expected the hostility. Hell, he deserved it. There was no excuse for cheating on someone, even if it was because the love of his life turned up. Ian figured now was a good time to leave before things got ugly, so he headed for the door. 

“I really am sorry,” Ian told him, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. 

When Trevor didn’t say anything, the redhead took his leave. Well, that was one item off his to do list. And if he stopped at Walmart to pick up peanut butter and marshmallow fluff, no one needed to know. 

Next there was the matter of his family. Did he even bother saying goodbye? It’s not like he could tell them where he was going. Even if they swore to keep it a secret, it would still put Mickey in danger. It was too risky. Still, as he was packing his backpack he couldn’t help but feel like he had to leave something. Last time he’d left without a word it had sent them into a panic and when he’d turned up again he was a mess. 

Ian opted for writing a letter, addressing each of his siblings in turn. He told them he was sorry for leaving again but that he had to. Not to worry because he wasn’t off on some bender or having a manic episode. And, most importantly, that he would call when he got settled. That ought to assuage them at least a little. There was nothing about his location. No mention of where he was headed. Even if they knew he was with Mickey, they’d have no idea where to find them. 

He left the note on the table, doing one more quick sweep of the house to make sure he got everything he needed. His phone beeped at him from where he had set it on the table, signaling that he had a voicemail. He smiled. Mickey. 

_ You comin or not, Gallagher? I’ll be at the spot _ .

Short and sweet. Ian hurried out the door in case any of his siblings came back from wherever the hell they were, stopping to take one last look at the house he’d grown up in. Lot of memories. Good and bad. Sometimes fucking hopeless. But it was theirs. Dysfunction and all. 

“I love you guys,” he said quietly to no one. “Except you Frank. Fuck you.”

With that final farewell, he hurried off to Mickey’s predetermined meet up spot, surprised when he got there first. From Mickey’s voicemail it had sounded like the thug was impatiently waiting for him to turn up. Luckily he didn’t have to wait long, as a silver Jeep Cherokee pulled up a few minutes later. Ian blinked in surprise. Mickey had somehow found the time to get his haircut back to his signature undercut. He’d also shaved off the beard, which was honestly kind of a shame. Ian didn’t really grow much by way of facial hair, not that it bothered him, but he liked how it looked on Mickey. The thug in question drummed his fingers nervously on the wheel, avoiding Ian’s eye. 

“This goodbye?” he asked. 

Ian shifted his bag off his shoulder, tossing it through the open window into the empty backseat. He spared a thought wondering where Damon was since he was pretty sure he was going with them, before hopping into the passenger seat, smiling at Mickey. 

“Let’s ride,” Ian said. 

The look on Mickey’s face made Ian’s heart skip a beat. Or two. Or three. Hell, it nearly made his heart fucking stop. He looked surprised, the look of shock quickly melting into a grin that was pure happiness before he was sliding on a pair of sunglasses and speeding away. Ian glanced out the window. See ya later Chicago. Good riddance.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Ian couldn’t stop glancing over at Mickey as he drove. It was strange, seeing him so relaxed despite the fact they were literally fleeing the country. He had yet to comment on why Damon hadn’t joined them. Not that Ian was particularly cut up about it. Something about the man rubbed him the wrong way. Had a feeling he might be more trouble that he was worth. Mickey’s eyes flicked over to him, a sly smile on his lips when he caught Ian staring. 

“The fuck are you lookin at?” he asked, though the words held no bite. 

“You still haven’t told me your plan,” Ian said, shrugging. 

Mickey hummed. 

“I’m thinkin a little bit of nipple pinching and some ass eating-

“Seriously,” Ian cut him off, laughing. 

“All right. Hey, go straight to fucking. That’s fine.”

Ian rolled his eyes. Not like he wasn’t on board with all three of those things, but he was admittedly a little worried. This whole thing had happened so fast, he didn’t have time to do any research. How did someone even cross the border into Mexico?

“You have any money?” Ian asked suddenly. 

“We’ll get some,” Mickey said, like it was that simple. And maybe it was. Mickey seemed to be dealing with all of this a lot better than Ian was, and he was the one who was a fucking fugitive. Ian flinched when he saw there was a cop car headed straight for them. 

“Shit,” he cursed, sliding down in his seat. 

Mickey calmly cheated his face away from the window, trying to be subtle as he blocked the side of his face with his hand. It was like time slowed down as the car past them, both of them holding their breath. The cop’s eyes never left the road. Thank fuck. Mickey chuckled, trying to defuse some of the tension. The redhead looked like he was thinking about tucking and rolling out of the car and Mickey was eager to make him feel more comfortable. 

“So, you ever been to the beach?” he asked. 

“No,” Ian said, staring out the window. Fuck that was close. He was still having trouble getting his breath back. 

“Sun all year round,” Mickey continued, “No more freezing our asses off. Just sandals and tequila from here on, man.”

Ian nodded, sort of half smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Mickey swallowed. Ian was already antsy and they weren't anywhere near the damn border yet. What was there to keep him from jumping ship. He finally got Ian back and he wasn’t gonna lose him again. He couldn’t. 

“It’s what kept me going in the joint,” he said quietly. “The beach...us.”

Ian turned to look at Mickey now, not used to his showing that kind of vulnerability. Hell, or admitting there was an “us” to think about. He realized what Mickey was doing. He was trying to show Ian that it was gonna be okay, because he was still waiting for him to cut and run and fuck if that didn’t make Ian feel like a total asshole. Ian tentatively reached over, placing a hand on Mickey’s knee. 

“I’m in this, Mick. Okay? I’m not gonna chicken out,” he told him seriously. 

Mickey just nodded, frown still in place. Then suddenly he was turning to Ian with a wide grin on his face. 

“Bet your white ass burns like a motherfucker,” he teased. 

Ian scoffed, shaking his head and looking down at his lap. Classic. Any time they got a little to mushy and heartfelt, Mickey was quick to crack a joke. Intimacy, at least when it came to words still made him uncomfortable, but Ian could see that he was trying. 

“Hey, pull over,” Ian said. 

“Why?” Mickey asked. They hadn’t been driving for that long and they needed to drive for at least a few more hours if they were gonna make it to the halfway point. Ian smirked, sliding the hand he still had on Mickey’s knee all the way up his thigh, then slipped it between his legs to palm at his crotch. Mickey made a sound like the wind had been knocked out of him, his hands tightening on the wheel as he hastily pulled off the road, parking in front of a tree. “C’mere,” Mickey said, meeting Ian halfway in a bruising kiss and fuck, it was just as good as it had been last night. 

Mickey broke away first, already going for his jeans. Ian laughed at the other man’s eagerness, undoing his as well and leaning forward to nibble at Mickey’s neck. 

“Hey I bottom now too if you wanna mix things up,” he said casually. Mickey froze, putting a hand on Ian’s chest and pushing him back a little. 

“Y-you bottomed for someone?” he asked, eyes wide. He knew Ian had had a boyfriend and he figured there were some hookups along the way, but he had assumed Ian was the one doing the fucking. But some son of a bitch had seen a part of Ian that Mickey hadn’t. Had gotten to have him in a way Mickey hadn’t and fuck if that didn’t hurt something fierce. 

Ian swallowed hard. Uh-oh. He hadn’t realized what a big deal admitting that might be to Mickey. 

“Yeah. Trevor, the uh, the guy I broke up with this morning,” Ian explained sheepishly. 

Mickey looked positively mistified. 

“I didn’t...I didn’t know that was something you thought about. If I had know you wanted to try it, I would have...” he trailed off, looking down, biting his bottom lip in frustration. 

Ian shook his head. 

“I hadn’t thought about it. I mean, not really. Once or twice maybe. But you like to get fucked and I like to do the fucking, so I was happy to keep things the way they were.”

“What about with  _ him _ ? Why was it different?” Mickey asked, glaring at him. 

Ian wracked his brain, trying to figure out how to explain about Trevor without unintentionally saying anything offensive. 

“Okay, I’ll explain it to you, but you have to promise not to be a dick,” Ian said seriously. 

Mickey arched his brows at him. 

“I’m not the one diggin myself into a hole here, Gallagher,” Mickey reminded him. Ian rolled his eyes. Mickey only called him Gallagher when he was really pissed. Ian waited for Mickey to at least nod in acknowledgement before he continued. 

“Trevor’s trans. And he’s been with guys in the past who assumed he’d be the one taking it just because he’s trans, but he prefers to top and so, I let him.”

Mickey blinked at him. 

“A trans dude? So, what, he has a-

“Yes. Technically. But he has several silicone dicks for fucking and he's a man, okay?”

Mickey mulled this information over for a minute. Ian was waiting for him to make a snide remark, call Trevor something derogatory. But it didn’t happen. Instead, Mickey cupped his cheek, barely brushing their lips together in a chaste kiss. 

“It should have been me,” he murmured against Ian’s lip. 

“Mick-

“It should have been me,” he said again, sliding his hand down the back of Ian’s jeans and giving his ass a squeeze before running his finger teasingly over his entrance. 

Ian shuddered against him, leaning back enough to yank off his jacket and sweatshirt, suddenly eager for skin on skin. Mickey followed suit, practically ripping his shirt off and leaning in so their chests were pressed flush together. 

“Get on your knees and face the window” Mickey said. His voice was gentle, but the command was clear. Ian did as he was told, shifting around as best he could with the limited space. He gasped when Mickey swiftly yanked his jeans down, wasting no time as he licked a trail down the younger boy’s spine before dipping his tongue between his cheeks. Ian keened, trying to press his hips back against Mickey’s mouth, his head dropping forward when Mickey grabbed hold of Ian’s cheeks, spreading them apart and sucking hard. 

“M-Mickey,” Ian stuttered. He’d never felt like this. Trevor hadn’t been into eating ass, but  _ oh _ , Mickey was made for it. Fucking, hungry for it. Kept humming against Ian with every thrust of his tongue. 

Mickey pulled away to grab the lube out of the glove compartment, the whine Ian let out at the sudden loss going straight to his dick. He uncapped the lube, squirting a generous amount onto his fingers before pressing a finger into Ian, up to the knuckle without stopping. 

“More,” Ian demanded. “I can take more. Please Mick, I want, I-I need-

The thug hushed him, pressing gentle kisses to the back of Ian’s neck to soothe him. He wanted it too, but he wanted to take his time, revel in the moment a little bit. Once he had Ian prepped, he was gonna give the redhead what he wanted. He was gonna fuck him good and hard, the same way Ian always fucked him. But that took prep and he wasn’t gonna rush it. 

Ian apparently had other plans as he reached behind him, grabbing a hold of Mickey’s wrist and trying to push his fingers further inside him. Mickey rolled his eyes, batting Ian’s hand away as he slipped a second finger in. 

“Yes. Like that, more,” Ian moaned. 

“Jesus, why am I not surprised that you're just as fucking bossy when you bottom as you are when you top?” Mickey growled. His own jeans were feeling uncomfortably tight and the sounds Ian kept letting out weren’t helping. 

Ian scoffed. 

“Please. Look up bossy bottom in the dictionary, Mick. Pretty sure there’s a picture of your face,” Ian said, throwing a smirk over his shoulder. 

Mickey glared at him, quirking his fingers just right and pressing hard against Ian’s prostate. The other boy yelped, gripping hard to the seat beneath him and crying out as Mickey continued to massage the sensitive bundle of nerves.  _ That oughta teach him to let me fucking be in charge _ , Mickey thought. 

By the time Mickey had three fingers working in and out of him, his other hand busy jerking Ian’s cock, Ian was a mess. He grunted with every pass of Mickey’s fingers against his prostate, turning his head to the side and gripping the back of Mickey’s head to drag him in for a filthy kiss that was all tongue and teeth and sure the angle was a little awkward but neither of them seemed to mind. Micky broke the kiss to catch a bead of sweat that had dripped down Ian’s neck on his tongue, following it all the way up to his ear. 

“Think you’re ready for me?” he whispered, half teasing and half honestly asking. 

Ian nodded eagerly, pushing back against Mickey’s fingers to prove his point. The thug grinned, pulling his fingers free and half manhandling Ian so that he was leaning over the front seat, facing the back. He rid himself of his jeans, quickly rolling a condom onto his cock, so hard it almost hurt. Mickey shifted so he was behind the other boy, one hand gripping Ian’s hip while he used the other to guide his dick to Ian’s entrance. Ian moaned as Mickey teased just the head against his hole before pushing in slowly. 

“A-are you alright? Need me to go slower?” Mickey asked through gritted teeth. 

“Don’t you dare stop,” Ian warned, hand slipping behind him to grip Mickey’s ass, pulling him closer. 

Mickey did as he asked, not stopping until he bottomed out, taking a moment to adjust so he didn’t blow his load before they even fucking started. But god, Ian was so  _ tight _ . Pressing his forehead between Ian’s shoulder blades, he took a couple of deep breaths, jumping in surprise when he felt Ian’s fingers running through his hair. 

“You okay?” the redhead asked, his own breathing labored. 

Mickey nodded, not trusting his voice. He’d probably cry or say something stupid like “thank you for letting me have you like this” and he’d already been honest enough with his feelings for one day. Instead, he rocked his hips forward, almost shyly as he silently asked if Ian was ready for him to move. The redhead seemed to understand as his head fell back against Mickey’s shoulder and he pushed his hips back to meet him. 

“F-fuck,” Ian cursed as Mickey started fucking him in earnest. It was so good. Even better than he’d imagined which mostly had to do with the fact that it was  _ Mickey _ fucking him. Mickey pressing hot, opened mouth kisses to his shoulder. Mickey moaning unabashedly in his ear. “It’s good, Mick. It’s so good,” Ian whined. 

“Yeah? Y-you like it when I fuck you? Like, having me inside you,” Mickey asked, his brain to mouth filter disappearing with every thrust of his hips. Ian clenched around him by way of answering, making Mickey gasp. “Oh, fuck yeah you do. M-me too. I like it too.”

“I don’t l-like it, Mickey. I fucking  _ love _ it,” Ian murmured, voice low and dirty in a way that made Mickey’s thighs quake as he hooked one arm under Ian’s armpit, giving him better leverage to pound into the other boy. Ian cried out, unable to hold back the noises bubbling up from his throat. 

“Mmm, you’re l-loud when you’ve got my cock in your ass. L-love it. Love h-hearing you like this,” Mickey told him, squeezing Ian’s hip hard enough to bruise. “Fuck, you feel so good. Y-you wanna come?” Mickey asked, already knowing the answer. 

Ian nodded wildly. 

“Yes. P-lease, Mick. Wanna come. Want you to make me come,” Ian begged. 

Mickey cursed, the hand he had on Ian’s hip moving to grip is cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. He hoped the kid was as close as he thought he was cause Mickey was seconds away from coming. Mickey shifted his hips just slightly, slamming into Ian’s prostate with every thrust now. 

“Yes, yes, right f-fucking there!” Ian cried, hand covering Mickey’s and making him stroke his cock faster. “G-gonna, fuck c-coming, coming!” Ian broke off, his mouth dropping open as he came with a long whine. That was all Mickey needed to finish himself, burying his face in the redhead’s neck and biting hard to stifle his, mildly embarrassing, whimper. 

Mickey slipped out, but stayed pressed up against the redhead until his breathing evened out. He huffed, pushing himself up and pulling off the condom, deciding that tossing it out the window was probably the best way to get rid of it. Not like he had a trash can in the car. He picked up his discarded t shirt and handed it to Ian so he could clean himself off. Ian took it, climbing into the backseat and stretching out, not bothering to get dressed. He arched a brow at Mickey. 

“You gonna join me?” he asked. 

The thug considered getting dressed and getting back on the road. They needed to makeup for lost time. The quicker they got out of the U.S. the better. But how could he deny himself when Ian Gallagher was stretched out naked waiting for him. Mickey climbed over the seat, unceremoniously laying himself over the other boy and kissing him soundly on the mouth. Ian smiled against his lips, dragging his fingers through his hair and pushing Mickey’s sweat slick bangs off his forehead. 

“Thank you,” Ian said when they pulled away. 

Mickey frowned at him. 

“Did you just thank me for sex?” he asked, smirk tugging at his lips. 

Ian blushed and fuck, Mickey hadn’t seen that look in so long. It made his heart flutter. 

“I just...I didn’t think we’d ever get a chance to be together that way and I-I’m glad we did,” Ian muttered, avoiding Mickey’s eye. 

The thug smiled fondly at him, idly trailing his fingers up Ian’s chest until he could rest his hand against his cheek. 

“Yeah. I’m glad too.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few things:
> 
> 1\. I'm sorry if anyone was offended by my use of the word thug when referring to Mickey. In my mind, that's what he is. I don't think it's a bad thing, it's just a part of who he is. He's occasionally violent and he is, for all intents and purposes, a criminal. A very lovable criminal, but a criminal none the less. I love them so much that I sometimes forget how imperfect they are, but I think it's important to remember that they're both very flawed human beings, who just happen to be perfect for one and other. 
> 
> 2\. I know the fluffernutter stuff seems random, but the image of rough, tough, gruff, Mickey Milkovich eating a fluffernutter tickles me greatly so I had to put it in here, lol. 
> 
> 3\. Thank you for sticking with me! There's one more chapter after this that will be disgustingly romantic with classic Milkovich rude/crude humor, and of course, smut ;)

Mickey pulled off into the parking lot of some dingy looking Motel. They’d just passed into Texas and even though he was pretty sure they hadn’t been recognized at the gas station they’d stopped at for breakfast, he knew they couldn’t be too careful. He was a fugitive after all and even if he was putting on a brave face, part of him was scared shitless. If he got caught...if he had to go back to prison...if he had to get ripped away from Ian again. Mickey shook the thought from his head, hopping out of the car and scanning the parking lot for the easiest target. 

“There. Green one,” he said, pointing to a Subaru parked toward the back of the hotel. “Windows down so there won’t be an alarm.”

Ian nodded, following close behind Mickey and keeping an eye out for the owner of said car. Last thing they needed was to get caught jacking a car. Plus it was Texas which meant the owner was likely packing heat, so prison was the least of their worries. The redhead watched as Mickey shoved the window down enough to slip his hand inside and unlock the door. He was immediately reminded of the time it had been too cold to fuck in the dugout so he and Mickey had broken into some poor bastards car. Mickey had managed to get the thing started, cranked the heat up to full blast, then let Ian fuck him first in the front seat and then in the back...twice. He smiled fondly at the memory. God, they were little shits back then, he thought as he slipped into the passenger seat beside Mickey. 

“Come on, hurry up,” he said as Mickey struggled to yank the wires out. Not that he didn’t trust the older boy, but he was antsy as fuck. 

“I’m a little out of practice,” Mickey groused, fiddling with the wires. 

“No you gotta,” Ian said, trying to point the correct wire since Mickey was currently trying to attach the wrong two. “It’s the other--

“Do I tell you how to do EMT shit?” Mickey snapped, glaring at the redhead. “Leave the goddamn stealing to the experts.”

Ian rolled his eyes, knocking Mickey’s hands out of the way and taking over. Mickey gave Ian his signature “what the fuck” look, but it quickly melted into a grudgingly impressed smile as the car started with ease. Ian arched a brow at him, looking smug as all hell. The thug stayed quiet, shaking his head as he pulled out of the parking lot. 

“So...how exactly are we gonna get across the border?” Ian asked, reaching into the backseat to grab his backpack. “We could try swimming over.”

“Never learned how,” Mickey admitted. 

“Really?” Ian asked, pulling the peanut butter, fluff, and bread out of his bag. If there was ever a time for a fluffernutter it was now. 

“Terry seem like the type to take me to the fuckin pool to teach me?” Mickey snapped. 

Ian huffed. No, Terry Milkovich did not seem like the time. Didn’t seem like the type to do anything except fag bash his son and get his ass thrown in prison over and over again until he fucking croaks. 

“The hell is that?” Mickey asked, realizing what Ian was doing. 

“A fluffernutter,” Ian told him, grinning. 

“Ex-fucking-scuse me?”

Ian laughed because yeah, that’s pretty much how he expected Mickey to react. He hastily made a second sandwich and passed it to Mickey, who eyed it skeptically the same way Ian had when Sue handed him half of hers. 

“C’mon man, it’s good. Trust me,” Ian said, taking a large bite of his own. 

Mickey’s eyes flickered over to Ian.  _ Trust me _ . Like it was that easy. Hell, it  _ was _ that easy. Mickey would trust Ian with his fucking life. He was the only person in the world that he trusted without question, even though Ian had left him twice. He was stupid. Love made him fucking stupid. He took a bite of the sandwich anyway. Holy shit. 

“Damn,” he mused, mouth full as he grinned at the redhead. 

“Told you,” Ian said, smiling back at him. 

“Think you can get this shit in Mexico?” Mickey asked, gesturing to the jar of fluff. 

“Not sure. Could top at Walmart and get a few jars just in case...but I think getting across the border is gonna be the bigger issue. We could try driving,” Ian suggested. 

“They probably have my picture posted all over the border crossing. Look, I uh, I have a plan,” he admitted sheepishly, taking another bite of the fluffernutter and avoiding Ian’s eye. 

“Oh?” Ian asked, curious as to why Mickey was acting squirrely. 

“Yeah, but you gotta promise you’re not gonna fuckin laugh when I tell you what it is.”

Okay, now Ian was really curious. What could possibly be so bad that Mickey was afraid Ian would make fun of him? He nodded for Mickey to continue. 

“I got a dress my bag...and a wig...and some makeup. I, uh, thought I might be able to pass myself off as a chick.”

To his credit, Ian didn’t laugh. But he couldn’t help the way his jaw dropped as he gaped at Mickey in surprise. Of all the border crossing schemes that had been used in all of space and time, that was not what he would expect Mickey to come up with. It was kind of ingenious actually. Ian opened his mouth to tell him as much but Mickey cut him off. 

“Not a fucking word.”

“I was just gonna-

“Nope.” 

Ian shrugged, his mind drifting back to the night Mickey came out. “ _ Doesn’t mean I’m gonna wear a fuckin dress or anything _ ,” he had said. Oh, how times had changed. 

“We’re gonna need to get some real money, man,” Mickey said suddenly, as if he just remembered that they only had a couple hundred or so that Mickey had filched from Damon before he’d kicked him to the curb. 

Ian chewed his bottom lip. He had money. Not like he was rolling in it, but it would be enough to get them started once they got into Mexico. He could drain his savings account. Get it all in cash. If he did it would mean he was hitching his wagon to Mickey’s. It would be hard to go back after that. He glanced at the man behind the wheel, he looked genuinely worried and scared since the first time Ian had hopped into the car beside him. Like he was sixteen again, terrified that he and Ian would get caught and his dad would kill them both. 

“Okay, we passed a bar a little ways back. Get the gun out of the glove compartment,” Mickey said, pulling off to the side of the road so he could turn around. 

“Are you fucking nuts?” Ian asked. 

“What?” Mickey asked. Robbing a bar was small change compared to some of the other shit he’d pulled as a teenager. 

“This is Texas, everyone here is packing,” Ian reminded him. 

“You got a better idea how to get cash?” Mickey asked. 

“Yeah, the bank!”

Mickey blinked at him in surprise. 

“Check it out. Ian Gallagher putting his big boy pants on,” Mickey teased. 

Ian gave his arm a light shove, unbuckling his seatbelt and hopping out the car. Mickey followed suit, grunting when Ian gripped his hips, pressing him against the car door and kissing him senseless. He nipped at Mickey’s bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue, groaning when Mickey’s hand slid down to grab at his ass. It took Ian a second to remember why he had gotten out of the car in the first place, but he broke the kiss when he remember. 

“I’m driving,” he said simply, shutting Mickey up with another kiss when the boy tried to argue. Mickey grumbled something about bossy fucking redheads, yelping in surprise when Ian slapped him hard on the ass while he was walking away. 

“Ay! Hands off the goods,” the thug snapped. 

Ian just laughed, shaking his head and climbing into the driver’s seat. He figured it would be pretty easy to find a bank once they were in town so he pulled off the next exit, not even paying attention to what the name of the town was. Not like it mattered. A bank was a bank. 

“Perfect,” Ian said, pulling into the parking lot of a strip mall with a bank at the end of it. He watched as Mickey tucked his gun into the band of his jeans, wondering if he should tell Mickey that he didn’t need it since Ian had an account...but where was the fun in that?

“Okay, just, be cool, Firecrotch. I know it’s not your strong suit-

“Fuck off,” Ian laughed, hopping out of the car and heading toward the bank with Mickey right behind him.

Ian paused at the counter next to the teller’s lines, snagging a piece of paper and jotting down a note. He glanced over at Mickey, eyes widening when he saw him putting a ski mask on. 

“Put the mask away!” the redhead hissed, yanking it off of Mickey’s head and shoving it 

at his chest. “You’re already on camera.”

“Fuck,” Mickey cursed when he saw the security guard chatting up some brunette. “You cover rent-a-cop, I’ll go get the money,” he said, sliding his gun out of his jeans. Ian caught his wrist, keeping the gun out of view of anyone who walked by. 

“I’ll handle the teller,” Ian said seriously. “We do this my way. No guns.”

Mickey looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it when he saw the security  guard sizing them up. He hastily tucked the gun back into his jeans and followed Ian up to the teller. A few years ago he’d trusted Ian about as far as he could throw him...which granted probably wasn’t very far now that he was all tall and filled out, but back when he was a scrawny fifteen year old wuss it would have been pretty fuckin far. Now he just took him for his word and followed after him like a damn puppy. Mickey swallowed hard, trying to decide if he cared how fuckin whipped he was. 

“Hi, my name’s Brianna. How’s your day so far?” the teller asked in an overly cheerful voice, smiling cheerily at Ian. 

“Just, read the note,” Ian said, trying to fight down a smirk. Mickey was standing on edge next to him, arms crossed, ready for a fight if need be. God, he honestly thought that Ian was gonna rob a bank. 

“You want this in cash?” the teller asked in surprise. 

“No, we want you to pick out fuckin stocks for us. Move your ass,” Mickey snapped. Ian rolled his eyes. 

The teller just smiled, though this one looked much more forced. 

“Swipe your card please,” she said to Ian. 

Mickey smirked. Yeah fuckin right. Like Ian had a card to...and....he’s pulling out a card...and swiping it, Mickey thought, eyes widening. 

“What the fuck?” Mickey asked. 

Ian turned to Mickey, smirking. 

“You didn’t think I was actually gonna rob the place,” he said knowingly. 

Mickey nodded, eyebrows so high they nearly reached his hairline. 

“I have a savings account. Been working for a year, Mick.”

“This is all the money in your account, Mr. Gallagher,” the teller said. “Are you sure you want to close it?”

Ian looked over at Mickey again. The thug met his eye, almost shyly. There was a question behind those eyes.  _ Am I worth it _ ? Ian’s heart clenched as he was reminded, again, of how much he’d fucked up. The Mickey he knew wasn’t insecure. He always knew that Ian would come back for him even when things went to shit. But now, it’s like he was worried if he made one wrong move Ian would leave for good. Was Mickey worth it? Abso-fucking-lutely. 

“Yeah...all of it,” Ian said, pretending he didn’t hear the sigh of relief that Mickey breathed. He knew he needed to make amends. Hell, he had years to make up for.  _ Don’t worry, Mick _ .  _ I’m not goin anywhere _ . 

Mickey didn’t say a word for hours after that. Ian tried to focus on the road, but his eyes kept flickering over to his boyfriend. Boyfriend? Is that what they were? He didn’t know anymore. He wanted to be. Now didn’t seem like a good time to ask though, considering Mickey was resolutely staring out the window, leg bouncing anxiously and his shoulders shaking. It was dark now so Ian pulled off the road onto a grassy area kind of tucked away. It wasn’t likely anyone even knew where they were, but he wanted to be careful just in case. 

Ian got out first, grabbing his bag from the back as well as the blanket Mickey had stashed back there. He headed a ways off the road, toward a set of train tracks sitting over a small cliff. They reminded him of home, back when he and Lip needed to get out of the house for a while, so they’d head down to the tracks to smoke and talk shit. Ian sighed, laying out the blanket and staring up at the sky. 

_ Jesus you want to spread a blanket out and look for shooting stars next _ .

Mickey’s words from that night in the dugout rang in his head. Yes, he would have loved to spread a blanket out and look for shooting stars, but Mickey hadn’t been serious and Ian wasn’t going to let on how much he wanted to. He wanted anything and everything Mickey was willing to give him, even back when it was just quick fucks against the fence in the dugout. He jumped when Mickey joined him on the blanket, still not saying anything. Ian was about to open his mouth when Mickey punched him hard in the arm. 

“Ow! The fuck was that for?” Ian asked. 

“You never fucking visited me,” Mickey said, eyeing Ian for a moment before looking at the ground, picking up a rock and flinging it over the side of the cliff. 

Ian sighed. He knew that was gonna come back around to bite him in the ass. It still surprised him when Mickey let himself be vulnerable like this. So different from the grubby, ready to fight at the drop of a hat, thug he’d been as a teenager. 

“It was hard seeing you...through that glass,” Ian admitted. 

Mickey’s head shot up, eyes locking with Ian’s. 

“It was hard?” he asked, laughing cruelly. “You have no fucking idea, Gallagher. Least you knew where I was. You had to see me through the glass sure, but you knew exactly where I would fucking be. I had to see you  _ free _ . Free, without me.”

Ian swallowed. He’d never thought of it like that. Yeah, seeing Mickey in that orange jumpsuit, talking to him on those cold ass prison phones, staring at him through the glass, was hard. But Mickey...Mickey couldn’t come visit Ian whenever he wanted to way Ian could have visited Mickey. Mickey had to watch him walk away, not knowing if he was ever coming back. 

“I’m-

“If you say you’re fucking sorry I’ll cut your tongue out,” Mickey said brusquely. “Jesus, I...I don’t even know why you’re here right now.”

“Why I’m here? I’m here for you, Mick,” Ian said, frowning. 

Mickey huffed. 

“But you’re gonna leave. Eventually I mean. I know it. Y-you’ve got a life back in Chicago. You told me you had your shit together. It doesn’t make sense that you’d just throw it away. Shit, you closed out your bank about for me. I don’t get it. Me? What am I leaving behind, my family? Who cares if I never see those shitheads again? But you, you could actually make it. A-and I’m just fucking it up for you cause I’m a selfish asshole,” Mickey said, voice shaking now as he bit at his bottom lip to try to stop the tears stinging his eyes.  _ Milkoviches don’t cry _ . Terry had beat that into him since he was a kid and he’d made it a rule to never shed a fucking tear. But Ian Gallagher had always had a way of making him break his rules. 

“Mickey I-

“You ever think about me?” Mickey asked suddenly. “When I was in the joint?”

Ian couldn’t take it anymore. Mickey sounded so fucking broken. He reached over, touching Mickey’s cheek to make him look at him. Mickey tried to fight it but Ian just moved closer, cupping his face in his hands and looking into his eyes. 

“A lot,” he whispered, smiling sadly as his thumbs brushed away a couple of tears that managed to fall. “I’m sorry, Mickey. I’m sorry for everything. For not saying anything when you asked if I would wait for you. Or when you told me you loved me. For the way I cut and run when things got too hard. For making you doubt for even a second that I don’t want to be with you. Who cares if I have a life back in Chicago? It’s not my life if you’re not in it,” Ian said, his own voice cracking now. 

Mickey sighed a breath of relief, a small smile on his lips as his fingers circled one of Ian’s wrists. 

“Fuck, I missed you,” Mickey breathed.

“Miss you too,” Ian said, pressing a soft kiss to the older boy’s forehead. “So much.”

It was Mickey that closed the space between them, kissing Ian soft and slow. He snaked his tongue into Ian’s mouth, teasing it against the other boy’s and making the redhead groan against his mouth. Ian pressed insistently against Mickey’s shoulder until the other boy took the hint and laid back on the blanket, Ian easily fitting his body over his and rolling their hips together as the kiss got heated. Mickey was still holding one of Ian’s wrists, his other hand dragging through Ian’s flaming red hair, using his grip to keep control of the kiss, moving Ian how he wanted.  They broke away, panting for breath and both more than a little hard in their respective jeans. 

“Fuck, I love you,” Ian murmured. 

Mickey looked up at him in shock, making Ian frown. 

“That can’t possibly be news you,” the redhead mused. 

“It’s...it’s the first time you’ve said it,” Mickey said quietly. 

Ian froze. That couldn’t be true. He’d been in love with Mickey for years. He’d definitely fallen in love before Mickey did and Mickey had said it to him twice now so there’s no way Ian hadn’t...oh, shit. He hadn’t. He’d said it to Lip. He’d said it to Mandy. Even Fiona once when he was very very drunk. But not Mickey. No wonder Mickey was feeling insecure about their relationship. 

“I love you,” Ian said again, kissing Mickey’s cheek. “I love you.” The other cheek. “I love you.” The corner of his mouth. “I love-

“Jesus, Firecrotch. I get it,” Mickey groused, but even in the dark Ian could see he was blushing. “You gonna touch me now or what?”

Ian smiled, pressing his lips to Mickey’s in a chaste kiss while he undid his jeans with deft fingers and pushed them down to his knees. . Mickey tried to reciprocate, but Ian batted his hands away. Before Mickey could protest Ian was licking his hand, making it nice and wet, before wrapping his long fingers around Mickey’s cock. Mickey gasped, biting his lip and rocking his hips against Ian’s hands. When he made grabby hands for Ian’s zipper the redhead stopped the movement of his hand complete. 

“Hard to get usually gets me hard, but right now it’s pissin me off. What gives?” Mickey snapped. 

Ian hid his face in Mickey’s neck, nibbling a trail up to his ear, grinning when he felt the older boy’s body tremble. 

“Wanna show you how much I love you. Wanna watch when you fall apart,” he whispered, twisting his wrist the way he knew made Mickey’s toes curl. “Gonna let me? Gonna let me love you?” 

Mickey whined, fingers tightening in Ian’s hair, head thrown back to bare more of his neck. Ian took the hint for what it was, biting down hard at the juncture where Mickey’s neck and shoulder met and sucking hard as he sped up his strokes. 

“S-shit,” Mickey cursed, clawing at Ian’s back and fucking into his fist as he felt his orgasm starting to build. 

Ian pulled back from his attack on Mickey’s neck in favor of watching his face. It was dark, but he could see his face was flushed, his sweaty bangs sticking to his forehead and his eyes blown wide with lust. 

“W-wanna touch you. P-please,” Mickey begged. 

Ian hummed, shaking his head. 

“Not this time, baby. Just you,” Ian said quietly, pacifying Mickey’s groan of frustration by nipping at his bottom lip before kissing him deeply. He swept his thumb over the head of Mickey’s cock, making the other boy break the kiss with a startled gasp. 

“M’close, fuck,” the thug hissed, trying to hide his face in Ian’s neck. The redhead pressed him back down with a firm hand to the chest. 

“Wanna see your face when you come,” Ian told him, pushing his bangs back from his forehead. Mickey was so far gone he didn’t argue, nodding and wrapping his hands tight around Ian’s back. 

“I-I’m, shit, Ian I’m--

Mickey broke off with a cry, nails digging hard into Ian’s back as he came over Ian’s fist, hips stuttering through the aftershocks. Ian watched as Mickey’s mouth dropped open, eyebrows furrowing almost like he was in pain as his orgasm rushed through him. Beautiful. Always so beautiful. Ian’s own jeans were incredibly tight, but he ignored it, kissing Mickey chastely on the mouth. Mickey had other plans however, as he sat up quickly, ripping his shirt off over his head and then dragging Ian back over him. 

“Mickey, what-

“You haven’t come yet,” Mickey said simply. This time when he moved to undo Ian’s jeans the redhead didn’t stop him. 

“This wasn’t about me, Mick. I wanted-

“You got what you wanted. Now it’s time for what I want,” Mickey growled, curling his fingers around the back of the younger boy’s neck. “Want you to get yourself off. Want you to come on me.”

Ian’s eyes widened. He shoved his jeans down eagerly, wrapping his hand, still slick with Mickey’s come, around his painfully hard dick. Mickey licked his lips hungrily, sliding his hands up Ian’s thighs and gripping tight. Ian stroked himself hard and fast, suddenly desperate to come, desperate to give Mickey what he wanted. 

“That’s it. You’re so hard. So hard for me. You don’t have to draw it out. Know you’re desperate for it. Know you wanna come,” Mickey crooned, thumbs brushing over Ian’s hip bones. 

“M-Mickey,” Ian stuttered, his rhythm already starting to falter. “I’m already, oh God, this is gonna be embarrassing.”

“S’okay,” Mickey chuckled. “I want it. Wanna feel it. You wanna come?” he asked, already knowing the answer. 

Ian nodded, even though he was pretty sure the question was rhetorical. Mickey smiled, running teasing fingers across Ian’s shaking abs. 

“Come,” he whispered. 

Ian threw his head back, mouth dropping open as he came hard across Mickey’s stomach and chest. Mickey hummed contentedly, grunting when Ian suddenly collapsed on top of him. 

“Christ, Firecrotch. Now you’ve got jizz all over your jacket,” Mickey grumbled, wrinkling his nose at the thought. 

“Worth it,” Ian said, voice muffled by Mickey’s chest. 

They fell asleep like that. Mickey’s arms holding him tight to his chest and Ian’s breath hot  against Mickey’s neck. Tomorrow was the big day. The moment of truth, when everything around them could crumble. But for one moment, everything was perfect. For one moment, they were the only two people in the world who mattered. 

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

They didn’t talk much the next day, too nervous for words. Mickey had cracked a couple of jokes, trying to lighten the mood, but they both knew they wouldn’t be able to really breathe until they were safely across the border. 

“Jesus, how do chicks fucking wear these things,” Mickey asked from the backseat, struggling to get a pair of black tights on. He saw the look on Ian’s face in the mirror and glared at him. “If you laugh, I’m leaving you on the side of the road,” he snarled, knowing the threat was empty. When he was finished getting dressed he climbed back into the front seat, wig in hand. He flipped down the mirror, pulling a makeup bag out of his backpack. 

“Are you...gonna put on makeup?” Ian asked, not sure if the thought freaked him out or  turned him on. 

“Gotta cover up my stubble, man. Besides, the less I look like me, the better,” Mickey reminded him, crudely rubbing foundation all over his face. Ian kept the car steady, trying to avoid any bumps as Mickey moved onto lipstick. He’d grabbed the first color he saw, which turned out to be bright fuchsia. Honestly, it looked pretty good. Matched his skin tone. Mickey caught Ian looking at him from the corner of his eye. “Don’t get any ideas. This is a one time thing,” he warned. 

Ian huffed a laugh, shaking his head fondly at his boyfriend. Mickey unceremoniously yanked the wig onto his head, doing his best to “style” it in a way that hid at least part of his face. 

“Okay, if anyone asks, my name’s still Mickey. Chicks are called Mickey right?”

“I don’t see why not...you ready?” Ian asked, as the check point came into view. 

Mickey didn’t say anything, reaching over and lacing his fingers with Ian’s, resting their joined hands on Ian’s thigh. Ian offered him a reassuring smile, wishing he could kiss him without getting lipstick on his face. Mickey smiled back. 

“Yeah...I’m ready.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it folks! Thanks for sticking with me on this wild ride :D I promise I'll get back to answering prompts now that this is over. I hope you liked it!!!!

_ “If they stop us, my name’s still Mickey,” the thug said, checking his face in the mirror and clipping on a pair of hoop earrings. “Chicks are called Mickey, right?” When Ian didn’t respond he walked over to stand in front of the redhead. “What’s the matter with you? Let’s go.” _

_ “I can’t,” Ian said quietly.  _

_ Mickey’s heart stopped beating and his stomach dropped. Fuck no.  _

_ “You can,” Mickey insisted. “Get behind the wheel. Drive the damn car.” _

_ Ian sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head.  _

_ “Ian, we’re one step from the finish line,” Mickey said, desperation clear in his voice.  _

_ Ian reached into his pocket, pulling out the money he’d gotten from his bank account. His _

_ bank account that he’d drained for Mickey without batting an eye. The redhead offered it to him.  _

_ “The fuck is that? I don’t want your money!” Mickey snapped angrily, swatting Ian’s hand away. “I want you to come with me,” he said, voice cracking on the last word.  _

_ Ian walked back to the car, tossing the money on the dash and grabbing his stuff out of the front seat.  _

_ “Don’t do this,” Mickey begged.  _

_ “I love you,” Ian said simply.  _

_ If Mickey’s heart wasn’t already shattered it was now.  _

_ “T-then get in the fucking car.” _

_ “It’s not--this isn’t me anymore...I’m sorry,” Ian said.  _

_ This isn’t me. All Mickey heard was I’m not who I used to be when I was with you, and I don’t want to be.  _

_ “That’s it, huh?” Mickey asked, trying to hold back the tears that were stinging behind his eyes.  _

_ Ian reached out to touch his cheek, but Mickey flinched away. If Ian touched him now he’d be powerless to stop the tears from falling. The redhead stared at him, eyes pleading for Mickey to understand and fuck, if it was a choice between kissing Ian goodbye now and never kissing him again, then Mickey didn’t really have a choice. He closed the distance between them, kissing Ian the way he always did; desperately, like it was the last time. Except this time it was. He poured everything he had into that kiss and Ian gave it back just as good, hand cradling the back of Mickey’s head as his thumb brushed against the other boy’s cheek. The broke away, breathing in each other’s space for a moment before Mickey gave his cheek a pat that felt more like a slap.  _

_ “Fuck you, Gallagher.” _

 

Mickey woke with a start, covered in sweat and struggling for breath. It took a moment for him to come back to himself, to remember where he was. Mexico. In a bed in some poor bastard’s empty beach house. He turned his head slowly, hoping to confirm what he already suspected. Ian. The redhead was curled up next to him, face smashed into his pillow, sleeping soundly. Mickey breathed a sigh of relief. Ian was here. Ian had come with him to Mexico. He hadn’t left him. The older boy reached out, gently running his fingers through Ian’s hair. The redhead sniffled, his eyes slowly blinking open. Fuck. Mickey forgot he was the slightest sleeper on the world. Ian sat up, rubbing his eyes. 

“Mick? Everything okay?” he asked. 

Mickey nodded, not saying a word as he climbed out of bed and padded into the kitchen. A quick glance at the clock told him it was way too fucking early to be awake, especially since it was still dark outside, but he didn’t want to sleep. Not when dreams like the one he’d had tonight were waiting for him. He snagged a glass from the cupboard and quickly poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge. He drank slowly, trying to steady the rapid beating of his heart. Ian had more than made up for breaking up with him all those years ago. Hell, the redhead had made it his mission to make it up to Mickey as soon as he hopped in the car and come with him all the way to Mexico. But apparently Mickey’s stupid brain didn’t get the memo that things were okay. That he was happy. That it was okay to be happy. 

Ian’s footsteps were so quiet, Mickey didn’t even know he’d come into the kitchen until he felt the redhead’s arms sliding around his waist and his chin hooking over his shoulder. 

“Bad dream?” Ian guessed. 

Mickey nodded. No point trying to hide it. The first time he’d had that particularly dream he’d woken up in tears and it had taken Ian a full hour to calm him down. It was mortifying. Made Mickey feel like he was crazy. At least Ian could pin it on being bipolar when he was inconsolable and freaking out. Mickey was just cracked. It wasn’t like the abandonment issues were all Ian’s fault. Ever since his mom had died, Mickey kept everyone at arm’s length. But years ago an obnoxious freckle faced kid with a shock of red hair had wormed his way under Mickey’s skin and into his heart. And even now it terrified him. Ian could break him with a word or a wave of his hand. He wouldn’t. But he could. And that scared Mickey more than anything. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Ian asked, rubbing soothing circles on Mickey back, trying to ease the tension. 

Mickey shook his head, turning in Ian’s hold and crashing their lips together in a desperate kiss. 

“Hold me,” Mickey said against Ian’s lips, not even embarrassed at the neediness in his voice. 

Ian did as he was told, cradling the back of Mickey’s head just as he’d done in Mickey’s dream while his other hand circled the thug’s waist, holding him impossibly close. Despite the desperation of Mickey’s lips and the eagerness of his hands, running all over Ian’s body, trying to get him as close as possible, Ian kept it slow. He brushed his thumb under Mickey’s ear in a way that he knew calmed him down, using the grip he had on the back of his head to keep the kiss slow and deep. It took a few minutes but Mickey’s heart finally started to chill, still beating faster than normal since Ian was kissing him and teasing his fingers up under the back of Mickey’s tank top, but the anxiousness he’d been feelings was starting to ebb. 

Mickey didn’t even complain about being manhandled when Ian lifted him up onto the counter, slotting himself between the brunette’s legs and kissing him quickly of the lips before pulling Mickey’s shirt off over his head and tossing it behind him. Mickey returned the favor, taking a moment to map out Ian’s chest, trailing his fingers over the tattoo on his ribs. Ian’s skin pebbled under his touch. He leaned forward, sucking one Ian’s nipples into his mouth, humming in response to the groan the redhead let out. Ian’s nipples had always been more sensitive than his own. Mickey let go, replacing his tongue with his fingers and giving each of his nipples are sharp pinch, making Ian gasp, his head falling to rest on Mickey’s shoulder. The thug smiled. Nothing got Ian harder than that move right there and he fucking knew it. 

Mickey leaned forward, flicking his tongue against Ian’s right nipple while he teased his fingers just under the hem of Ian’s boxers before slipping his hand fully inside and curling his fingers around the redhead’s cock. 

“Oh, fuck,” Ian groaned, breath hot on Mickey’s neck. He rocked his hips forward into Mickey’s fist, breath catching when Mickey swiped his thumb over the head of his dick, gathering the drop of precum that had dripped out. He huffed in frustration when Mickey pulled his hand out of Ian’s boxers, but as he watched Mickey bring his thumb to his lips and suck it into his mouth to taste him, his eyes clouded with lust. Unable to hold himself back anymore Ian shoved Mickey so he was laying on his back on the counter, divesting him of his boxers and sucking Mickey’s cock into his mouth with zero preamble. 

“Jesus christ!” Mickey cried, unprepared for the sudden change of pace. Ian hummed around him, making Mickey curse, his hands flying to yank at Ian’s hair. Mickey whined when Ian pulled off, so hard he was aching, but when he realized what Ian was about to do his head dropped back onto the table.  “Oh fuck, Ian,” Mickey said breathlessly as Ian pressed the flat of his tongue against Mickey’s hole. Ian chuckles against him, using his hand to spread Mickey’s cheeks so he can fuck him with his tongue in earnest. They don’t do this nearly often enough and Mickey vows right then and there that he’s gonna change that. 

Ian slides a finger in next to his tongue, going slow to ease Mickey into it. He knows Mickey is still coming down from the adrenaline his bad dream had left him with and he wants to take his time. Take Mickey apart slowly, one piece at a time. He slides a second finger in next to the first, crooking them just so so that they pressed against Mickey’s prostate. 

“Fuck!” Mickey cried, almost losing it completely when Ian stopped using his tongue, in favor of sucking Mickey’s dick into his mouth again. “G-god, your  _ mouth _ ,” Mickey groaned.  Ian would have smiled if his mouth hadn’t been otherwise occupied.  

They’d been in Mexico for about a few weeks now, taking time for a a vacation that felt more like a honeymoon before they worried about finding jobs and a place to live. They’d been hopping from one empty beach house to the next. It was surprisingly easy. Rich people clearly didn’t care much about their vacation homes being broken into. 

Things had been going well. They fucked. They talked. Mickey was even letting Ian teach him how to swim, which kept ending in pool sex, but neither of them seemed to mind. But Ian knew he had a lot of making up to do. It would be a while before Mickey stopped waking up from dreams of Ian leaving him, but Ian had no intention of giving up. Not when they were finally together. For real. Forever. 

“Get the hell up here,” Mickey demands suddenly, clawing at Ian’s shoulders in an attempt to get him to comply quicker. 

Ian leaned over Mickey, the position a little awkward given that Mickey was still laid out across the counter, and kissed him fiercely. Mickey nipped at Ian’s bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. 

“W-want you in me,” he moaned. 

Ian answered the moan with one of his own, pulling away and pressing and hand to Mickey’s chest when he tried to follow. 

“Stay,” he said seriously, disappearing from the room. Mickey was already too fucked out to argue anyway, but he hoped Ian wouldn’t be too long.  

The redhead came back a minute later, lube and condoms in hand. They’d decided that once they were settled they’d get tested so they could  _ finally _ fuck without condoms and not worry about anything, but until then, it was better to be safe than sorry. Ian shoved his boxers down, stepping out of them and simultaneously tearing the foil packet open with his teeth so he could roll the condom on quickly. Mickey hadn’t moved in the few minutes Ian had been gone and he eagerly spread his legs as Ian slipped two lubed fingers in up to the knuckle, making the thug gasp. 

Ian tried not to rush the prep, but god he wanted to be in Mickey like, yesterday. He worked his fingers until Mickey was rocking back against them, trying to get him to go faster. That was all Ian needed to know the other boy was ready. He pulled his fingers out, soothing Mickey’s frustrated whine with hot, open mouthed kisses across his thighs while he slicked himself up with more lube. With his eyes trained on Mickey’s face, Ian pushed in, mouth falling open in time with Mickey’s. 

They made love slowly, in a way they never had before. Gone were the quick fucks in the dugout or the desperate, needy fucks that had been the norm since they got to Mexico. Usually they were too eager to get on each other to take their time, ripping at each other’s clothes and fucking each other senseless. But now, now Ian was laying over Mickey, his face tucked into the older boy’s neck, thrusting into him nice and slow and  _ hard _ , the way he knew Mickey liked it. And Mickey had his lips pressed close to Ian’s ear, breathy little “ _ ah, a-ah, ah _ ” sounds escaping with every brush of Ian’s dick against his prostate. 

When Ian felt Mickey’s breathing pick up against this ear he knew the other boy was close, so he slipped a hand between them to stroke Mickey’s cock in time with his thrusts. Mickey locked his arms around Ian’s back, nails digging in hard as he spilled over the redhead’s hand with a choked off cry that might of been Ian’s name. He clung to Ian as the younger boy fucked him through his orgasm, chasing his own. 

“Come for me,” Mickey whispered, almost so quiet that Ian missed it. But that was all he needed, thrusting half a dozen more times before he tipped over the edge, stifling his cry in Mickey’s neck. 

Ian slipped out of Mickey, sending him an apologetic look when he saw Mickey wince. The thug shook his head, sitting up and pulling Ian back between his legs so he could kiss him, pecking him on the lips once, twice, three times before carefully sliding off the counter. He knocked his head against Ian’s chest, sighing and brushing his thumbs over the redhead’s hip bones. Ian hummed, kissing the top of Mickey’s head. 

“I love you,” he told him. Now that he’d said it once, he couldn’t seem to stop. Mickey didn’t mind. Sure sometimes he’d roll his eyes and tell Ian to quit being such a sap, but most of the time he smiled, looking at Ian like he was the eighth wonder of the world. 

“Love you too,” Mickey said, words a little garbled as Mickey yawned in the middle. Ian laughed, effortlessly scooping Mickey into his arms, making the older boy yelp. “The fuck are you doing?!”

“Bringing you back to bed,” Ian said simply, holding his boyfriend close and carrying him down the hall toward the bedroom. 

“I can walk,” Mickey grumbled, but Ian noted he wasn’t struggling. 

“I told you I was gonna sweep you off your feet,” Ian reminded him, grinning cheekily. 

“Didn’t realize you meant literally.”

Mickey huffed as Ian dropped him onto the bed, sliding in next to him and curling himself around his boyfriend. 

“Jesus, you’re like a fucking octopus,” Mickey grunted as the redhead threw an arm and a leg over him. 

“A sexy octopus,” Ian slurred, already falling asleep. 

Mickey chuckled, running his fingers through Ian’s hair and dropping a kiss on his forehead. His anxiety had ebbed, at least for the night. He knew, even if his stupid brain tried to fuck with him that Ian was his, without question. The thought brought a smile to his face as he rested his forehead against his boyfriends, closing his eyes to go back to sleep. 

“Yeah, a very sexy octopus.”


End file.
